


Solace

by StoriesbyNessie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Bisexual Harry Potter, Coming Out, Depression, Frottage, Gay Ron Weasley, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kissing, M/M, Nightmares, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pining, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Romance, The Burrow (Harry Potter), Weasley fest 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23214106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesbyNessie/pseuds/StoriesbyNessie
Summary: One year has passed after the battle of Hogwarts. Ron's family along with Harry and Hermione have gathered at the Burrow for a memorial of Fred. Everyone is broken, and Ron almost can't take it anymore. Ever since the war ended, he's been taking Dreamless Sleep to avoid the nightmares that haunt him every time he forgets. But it's not only nightmares that disturb Ron; he has a huge secret, a weirdness that doesn't seem to go away.And then there's Harry. Harry's acting so weird.Written for The Weasley Fest 2020 on Tumblr.
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/Original Male Character(s), Harry Potter/Ron Weasley
Comments: 17
Kudos: 198
Collections: The Weasleys Fest





	Solace

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: After the war, Ron is plagued by nightmares that leave him sleepless. He’s taking Dreamless Sleep every night, and he’s on the verge of getting addicted, that is until Harry shows him a way to fall asleep without having to rely on a potion.
> 
> Special thanks to Ringelchen who submitted the prompt (I hope you like what I did with it!) and to the mod, a_reader_and_writer, for running this fest! I've really enjoyed being a participant! <3
> 
> Also, a huge thank you to my beta, KoraKunkel! I am forever grateful for your suggestions and thoughts on my writing!

**Ron**

Ron woke with a jolt and shot straight up from his bed. His eyes scanned anxiously around the dark room, looking for any shadows that might be suspicious. With his heart racing, breath shallow and red hair soaked in sweat, he was sure he was going to die. Ron's blue eyes were wide with fright, and it took him almost a full minute to understand where he was.

_Home. I’m home. I’m safe._

Ron tried taking a calming breath only to find that it didn't fucking help at all. A shrill scream in pure agony flashed through his mind, and as he lifted his hands to his face, he realised he must have been crying too. His throat felt tight, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't stay within these walls. He bolted out of his bed, out of his room and down the floppy stairs.

The Burrow was dark and quiet and the shadows made Ron feel like he was being chased. His heart knocked about with such force in his chest that he feared he would have a heart attack. Maybe he already had one without realising it. Ron was sweating and shivering so badly he tripped down a step and almost crashed into the wall by the landing. He gave a small whimper of pain when his shoulder hit the hard surface, but he kept going. Relief showered over him when he pushed the back door open and stepped right into the cool, summer night's air. He stood in the damp, green grass with his hands on his chest, forcing his breathing to slow down. The nightmares kept flashing before his eyes, he couldn't stop them, and he couldn't calm his heart rate nor his breathing. His throat felt like it had closed, and he was so dizzy. He was going to faint…

A shriek echoed in his mind again. Ron’s hands shot up to cover his ears as he fell on his knees in the wet grass.

_I’m going to die._

“Ron?”

Someone put a hand on his arm, and Ron shot to his feet, whirling around and fully prepared to attack. Hands raised in fists, he stared, scared and pale, into a pair of familiar green spectacled eyes.

“Ron, it’s me.”

Harry's soothing voice made Ron's hands fall feebly to his side. It didn't take long until Harry's arms were wrapped around his body and Ron let himself be pulled into his best friend's embrace, despite it being completely unmanly. They did hug, sometimes, but this was so intimate, and Ron shouldn't let himself fall so easily into it. It was so typical of him to do; he knew something else rather than nightmares was wrong with him, fucking up his brain, because…

“It’s okay,” Harry mumbled, stroking Ron’s back in soothing circles. “Everything’s all right.”

He let Ron go and the two young men put some distance between each other. Ron hugged his own body, not sure what to do with his hands.

“Bloody nightmares,” he said weakly, staring down at his own feet. “They never stop.”

“I know.” Harry gave him a sympathetic look. “I know what you’re going through, Ron.”

“I know you do,” Ron remembered Harry’s nightmares during their time at Hogwarts all too well. He had spent a lot of time comforting him back then. “But it’s been a year since the war ended, Harry. When will it fucking stop?”

“I don’t know,” Harry answered honestly and took off his glasses to rub at his eye. “I wish I knew. I’d tell you.”

"Yeah." Ron's voice was sullen. He felt moody and tired, regretting deeply he had chosen to go to bed without taking a Dreamless sleep potion. Harry didn't know how much Ron relied on them, and he intended to keep it that way. He needed to take one now, he couldn't be awake and be a prisoner to his own head. He couldn't look at Harry, and he couldn't stand here, outside of his family home wearing his worn-out pyjamas in the middle of the fucking night.

“I’m going back to bed,” he announced, not caring if Harry followed him or not. Ron reckoned he would soon enough, they slept in the same room after all. Harry still slept in the same old cot he’d spent most of their summers in before going back to school.

Two minutes later, Ron was in the bathroom, downing the potion and avoiding his gaze in the small mirror. It was rare that he fell asleep at all without the potion nowadays. Whenever he did, this happened. It was a bit better the nights he didn't sleep at all, where the dreams couldn't find him. 

_When the memories eat me alive instead._

Ron washed his face with cold water, firmly avoiding eye contact with his reflection. He hated the purple bags under his red-rimmed eyes, how pale and utterly weak he both looked and felt.

_Everybody handles things so much better than I do._

It was true. A year after the battle ended, and both Harry and Hermione seemed to have found their paths in life. Harry was an Auror, Hermione went back to Hogwarts to study- both of them now happy and content with life. Hermione had brought back her parents from Australia too and given them their memories back. She now lived with them to make up for the lost year and had just graduated from school with top marks, a position at the Ministry waiting for her on a silver platter. Ron knew she had struggled with guilt from removing herself from her parents' lives, but it all seemed okay now, at least from what she said. And Harry… Harry wasn't plagued by Voldemort anymore. He was finally at peace.

Ron’s family had lost Fred. They were still broken; one year after and his mother still cried herself to sleep some nights and there were days George couldn’t even get out of bed to go to work. Ron worked in the joke shop Fred and George had started together, and whenever George had a bad day (which he often had), Ron stepped in and took care of everything. He was George’s lungs on the days he couldn’t breathe.

Ron's own felt too tight; he felt like he didn't have the right to feel the way he felt. Everything was over now. He should be able to sleep without the damn potions. Ron had used them ever since the battle ended, it had been a reprieve at first - not having to deal with his nightmares but now... Now he couldn't go a single fucking night without it. He glared at the vial before putting it into the pocket of his pyjama bottoms.

_You’re an addict._

_'No, I'm not,'_ he thought bitterly and swung the door to the bathroom open. He almost jumped; he hadn’t expected to find Harry on the other side of the door, looking at him with worried eyes behind round spectacles.

“Sure you’re alright?”

“It’s okay, Harry,” Ron muttered, not quite meeting his gaze. “It’ll be alright in the morning.” Ron’s mind felt clouded with the potion, he needed the bed before he would pass out on the floor. Fortunately, Harry didn’t ask anything more. He only followed Ron back to their shared room, beds creaking as they climbed into them and soon fell asleep.

*******

“RONALD!”

Molly was standing outside of Ron’s room, banging at the door loudly with her fist. Ron groaned and pressed the pillow over his head in an effort to shut his mother’s voice out.

“I hate her sometimes,” he muttered beneath the material.

He heard Harry laugh from his cot and how the bed squeaked as Harry shifted.

Molly banged at the door again. “RONALD WEASLEY! IF YOU ARE NOT OUT OF YOUR ROOM IN FIVE MINUTES, I WILL — ”

"I'M COMING! I'M AWAKE!" Ron roared back, appearing red-faced as he tossed the pillow on the floor and shot up to a sitting position. His red hair was wildly tousled, and an incoming headache threatened to break free. His mother shouted something about to get a move on or she would drag him downstairs by his ear. Ron groaned again and yawned, scratching his balls beneath the duvet before turning to Harry.

“What time is it?”

"Dunno." Harry was bleary-eyed, black hair standing in all directions more than usual. Ron's expression softened, and he smiled as he laid eyes on the dishevelled, sleepy figure that was his best mate. His fingers itched to reach out and touch, wondering if Harry's hair was as soft as it looked. His cheeks coloured at the thought, and he forced himself to quickly think about something else and look away.

This wasn’t normal.

_It’s the sleep deprivation. The nightmares. It must be, because they’re fucking up my brain._

“Shit. It’s eleven am,” Harry sighed, checking his wristwatch. “Guess we overslept pretty bad, didn’t we?”

"I suppose." Ron's mood soured further at the reason why they had overslept. It was bad enough his stupid fucking nightmares affected him, but now they were affecting Harry too and that pissed Ron off even more.

He hopped out of his bed and looked for the clothes he had tossed haphazardly on the floor the night before. Ron was in such a hurry he forgot Harry could see his morning boner and he had no time to be embarrassed about it. His mum would clip him round the ear if he wasn't showing himself downstairs soon. No doubt she would let Harry take his time though. She'd always had a soft spot for him.

_I’m fucking nineteen years old. I don’t live here anymore, yet she still treats me like…_

He sighed moodily as his stomach growled loudly. Ron wondered if his mother would allow him breakfast this close to lunchtime. He pulled a sweater over his head.

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” Ron told Harry over his shoulder, swinging the door open. “Need to go down, to… Keep her calm.” He shot him a weak smile.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, smiling too. “See you soon.”

**________**

**Harry**

Harry watched the door to Ron’s bedroom close as his best mate disappeared from view. When he heard Ron jog down the stairs, shouting something to his mother, he let out a long breath.

Something was wrong with Ron. Harry couldn’t pinpoint exactly what, but something wasn’t right. It hadn’t been for a long time.

Truth be told, something wasn’t right with Harry either. He felt queasy thinking about it, Ron would hate him forever if he knew.

_I love him so fucking much I can’t breathe sometimes._

That was brilliant news; a fucking headline in the Prophet. The Great Harry Potter had an absolutely mental crush on his best mate Ron Weasley. He tried not to because he knew Ron wouldn't be interested.

_Ron isn’t gay._

But no matter how much Harry tried, he couldn’t deny his feelings for the redhead. They were driving him mad. When Ron woke from a nightmare a few hours earlier, Harry hadn’t been able to resist pulling him close, hugging him for all he was worth. Ron had looked so small and scared; Harry’s heart had squeezed at the sight. Harry knew Ron was plagued by nightmares and he felt lost, not knowing what to do. He knew what he _wanted_ to do, but it wasn't necessarily something he should. Last night though, he almost hadn't been able to restrain himself anymore. All he wanted was to just say 'fuck it' and kiss Ron like there was no fucking tomorrow.

Harry didn't know when that had started. His fling with Ginny had ended almost immediately after the war, and a few months later, Ron's relationship with Hermione had ended too. Maybe it was around that time Ron had seemed to become moodier than usual and more distant, but Harry wasn’t sure.

He unwillingly climbed out of the warm cot he always slept in whenever he visited the Burrow. It wasn’t the comfiest thing in the world, but it provided some sort of consolation and a feeling of home. Harry knew the creaks the bed made whenever he shifted position to sleep in at night like the back of his hand and the familiar scent of the bed linen encased him like a safe cocoon.

His emerald eyes landed on Ron's bed with the Chudley Cannons orange duvet, pillow and a Mrs Weasley knitted blanket. Ron hadn't bothered to make his bed before he left his room, and Harry smiled at the sight before forcing himself to tear away and go down the stairs too. Ron was right, Mrs Weasley wouldn't yell at him in the same way she often yelled at Ron or her other sons or even sometimes Ginny. Still, though, it was best not to linger too much, or Ron would get suspicious.

Harry swallowed as he stepped out into the narrow hallway and proceeded to jog downstairs to the kitchen. Everybody had gathered at the Burrow for a memorial of Fred, and he could feel the sadness in the air like a heavy fog. He felt a bit ashamed of himself; here he was having thoughts, _filthy_ thoughts, he shouldn’t have about Ron, when they were all here for a sad occasion.

He shouldn’t have such thoughts about Ron at all, yet they still occupied his mind more and more frequently. Ron’s warm, freckled skin took up more of Harry’s mind than he liked to admit, he often thought about how it would feel under his hands. Ron’s smile and his laugh and his perfect Keeper-muscles invaded nearly every waking, and sometimes non-waking, thought. And good _Godric_ , just a few minutes ago the morning boner Ron might not have realised he had underneath his boxers had literally been at Harry’s eye-level. How would it feel to remove them and just… Harry’s palms were sweating as he grabbed onto the railing, making his way downstairs.

_You really are twisted, aren’t you?_

Harry heard muffled voices. The bottom floor was unnaturally quiet and empty, except for the voices coming from behind the closed kitchen door. He recognised one of them as Ron’s and the other —

“Honestly, Ronald, when are you going to tell them? You can’t keep hiding this any longer, you know, it’s unhealthy!”

_Hermione._

Even though Harry knew she and Ron weren’t together anymore and all three of them were good friends, it still made him feel jealous knowing that Hermione had once been allowed to do all the stuff Harry wanted to do with Ron. All the filthy touching, caressing, fucking… sharing intimate moments Harry wanted to have with him.

_Stop. You’re doing it again._

Harry pressed down the door handle before he even heard Ron answer anything. He had a sour feeling in his stomach. Ron was _definitely_ keeping something from him.

**__________**

**Ron**

"Hey, mate." Ron smiled as he saw green eyes and messy, raven-black hair appear on the threshold of the Weasley family kitchen. Harry gave both Ron and Hermione a tight smile in greeting. He looked a bit constipated, making Ron wonder if something was wrong. He wanted to ask, but that might seem weird, and Ron couldn't handle any more weird right now.

“Hi, Harry, slept well?” Hermione asked, and she and Harry fell into a friendly chat, leaving Ron to his own thoughts.

Once Ron got downstairs, his mother had demanded he go down to the village to pick up some things for the family lunch they would have in about an hour. The rest of his siblings and their spouses were out in the gardens, setting up the tables and a large party tent in case it would rain. It was a gorgeous early summer’s day, the sun shone brightly in a light blue sky with just a few, white and fluffy clouds and the promise of a warm season heated the air around him.

Ron was watching Bill and Charlie levitate tables from the kitchen window as he ate a piece of bread he had snatched from a plate on the counter. His mum had been relentless; Ron woke up so late so he wasn’t allowed breakfast when he could eat at lunch later. He scowled, missing meals tended to make him grouchy. Charlie spotted him and waved, making Ron realise he missed his older brothers so damn much. He waved back as a tightness settled in his chest.

“Need to go down to the village,” Ron said, shoving the last crumbles into his mouth and gulping down a glass of water. “Mum’s orders. Hermione, you’ll come with, won’t you?”

Hermione nodded, looking up from the conversation with Harry. The two of them were sitting by the table. Harry looked up too. The moment their gazes met, Ron's stomach made a weird flip, and he suddenly felt nauseated.

"I'll come too," Harry said as he got up to his feet.

Ron shook his head.

"No, I think Dad needs help with something outside. We'll see you here in a bit, yeah? And there'll be Quidditch, later on. I heard Charlie say something about that." Ron gave Harry an apologetic look, hoping he wouldn't take it the wrong way. But there were reasons why Harry couldn't come along, and if he knew, it would be the end of Harry and Ron's friendship.

Ron was absolutely sure of that; his weirdness had already caused too much damage. It had broken his and Hermione’s relationship; Ron didn’t want it to break his and Harry’s too.

He felt guilt settle slowly in the pit of his stomach when he saw disappointment flash briefly in Harry's eyes before the man gathered himself. "Right. Well, okay. I suppose I'll be out in the gardens then."

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "Hermione…" He jerked his head in the direction of the door, and the young woman got to her feet. As soon as they stepped outside in the midday sun, they had to push past several redheads, garden gnomes, bushes and too-high grass to get to the main road. Once they had successfully stepped onto the dirt path that would take them to the Muggle village, Hermione grabbed Ron's arm and forced him to look at her.

“You’ve got to tell them now, Ron. Harry, at least.”

"Yeah?" Ron almost spat, jerking his arm back. "That'll be cheery, I'm sure. When should I tell them, you reckon? At lunch? Or maybe while we all stand around Fred's grave, I'll just drop the bomb?'Hey everyone, just so you know, I'm — " He cut himself off as a tightness built up in his throat. Ron's eyes watered, and he felt like an utter twat because that would just be the cherry on top, wouldn't it, if he started fucking crying now. He turned from Hermione and walked in a much faster pace than before, not caring if she followed or not. She did, of course, jogging lightly beside him to try to keep up with his long strides.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I just think… I just think you would feel better if it got out. Sooner or later it has to, you know. Don’t be so stubborn, darling.”

Ron shot her a look, briefly narrowing his eyes before breaking out into a smile at the endearment.

Hermione caught herself too and blushed. “Sorry. Old habit, I suppose.”

“I wish we still were together sometimes,” Ron said, gaze dropping to the ground. “It would’ve been much easier. Less complicated.”

“No, it wouldn’t have,” Hermione quickly answered. “You know as well as I do it wouldn’t have lasted anyway.”

“I wanted you for several years back at Hogwarts,” Ron muttered, rubbing his hands over his arms as they walked. Houses began to heap up in front of them as they came to the outskirts of the village.

“We were naive kids back then,” Hermione shrugged. “And besides, I think you only wanted to because you were scared of getting in touch with who you really are. So, you so very firmly _decided_ to like me. There’s a huge difference in wanting something and _deciding_ to want something, Ron. For us, it was the latter.” She gazed up at him, squeezing his arm. “I’m not disappointed.”

“’Course you’re not, not much of a catch, am I?” Ron said, playfully shoving her. His words were meant as a joke, but they came out sad and sulky despite the lightness he tried to add to it.

Hermione laughed. “You are! And you will be, for someone else, someday. You just have to accept it, _truly_ accept it. The person you _really_ are.”

Ron didn't answer, they were in the heart of the village now and couldn't talk about this. People knew the Weasleys, and Ron would absolutely hate it if the news got out this way, with someone talking. He wasn't ready for anything to get out at all, even though Hermione kept nagging him about it. She was the only one who knew, and Ron felt like he was completely dependent on her because of that. He needed to vent; he needed her comfort in this shit storm he had made for himself.

One year after the war and Ron hadn’t expected to deal with so much personal shit finally catching up with him after the Horcrux hunt and the fucking battle. He hadn’t wanted to tell anyone because he didn’t want to be a burden to people, not with Fred leaving them all. The war was still very much alive in his mind, rolling like a film before his eyes as soon as it got dark. Ron never got a damn breather. During nights, it was memories of the war plaguing him, and during the day it was his constant fucking weirdness. The secret he wished would just go away and hide.

The only thing he could truly rely on was the bloody Dreamless Sleep potions. Ron thanked Merlin and Godric, hell, even Salazar Slytherin for the small vials of respite nobody knew he always needed if he were to get any sleep at all.

Then there was the weirdness. Ron was convinced everyone would hate him if they knew, yet Hermione kept insisting that wasn’t the case.

But they would. They so fucking would.

Especially Harry.

How was Ron supposed to tell his best mate since they were eleven, that he was a bloody shirt lifter? He couldn’t even think the word without blushing and feeling ashamed.

There was another thing too.

Ron couldn’t stop looking at Harry. Or rather, he couldn’t stop _look-looking_ at Harry. It was the reason he and Hermione had broken up. Not only because he was gay, but because he was in love with Harry. _Harry._ Ron had been pining for months now, and it was so bloody fucking stupid.

_Harry isn’t gay._

Hermione didn’t exactly know this part of Ron. She just knew about the ’Turns-out-I’m-gay’-part. Harry was Ron’s deepest darkest secret.

And Ron was sure if that secret ever got out, that would be the end of it.

Harry would hate him forever.

*******

**Harry**

The tables in the middle of the garden were overflowing with food. Molly had gone all out with the cooking: chicken and ham pies, boiled potatoes, several types of salad, casserole, chips, roast beef, sausages, turkey… Harry's stomach rumbled as he took in the delicious sight in front of him. He was so hungry, much like Ron, he hadn't eaten any breakfast. He watched as a gust of wind played with the table cloth as the Weasley brothers, with Ginny in tow, pushed past him like hungry wolves to reach the food first.

“Finally,” he heard Ron mutter under his breath beside him. “I’m bloody starving.”

"Yeah," Harry said absently, very glad that Ron was next to him where he couldn't see him. Hermione was on his other side, snapping something about actual starvation to Ron and how he shouldn't talk like that. Her voice felt like it was far away; Harry barely heard her as he was too busy staring at tattooed, freckled, pale arms, pierced ears and red hair. Both Bill and Charlie were incredibly good-looking, there was no doubt about that. The Dragon keeper job kept Charlie fit, and Bill was just a natural beauty, it seemed like, even with the scars across his face.

Ever since Harry discovered he liked boys just as much as girls, he'd been looking more at different males and found that he had a soft spot for red hair. Or maybe he just had a soft spot for Weasleys.

Charlie laughed at something Bill said, and Harry watched the lines of laughter spread across his face. Ginny was obviously very beautiful too; she had been his girlfriend after all. Her hair had really grown, it was past her small breasts now, almost down to her elbow. It shone bright red in the sunlight as she turned her head and met Harry's eyes for a brief moment before she looked away. Ginny had a new boyfriend, and he happened to be next to her, shooting Harry a funny look. He quickly looked away, a little ashamed. He didn't want Ginny's new boyfriend to believe that Harry still pined after her. His brief relationship with her felt like it belonged in a different lifetime.

_And now there’s Ron…_

“Harry?”

Harry blinked, finding that Hermione had moved from her position and was now filling up her own plate by the tables. Ron was still beside him though, looking at him with uncertain eyes.

“You sorta spaced…” Ron said, blushing slightly. “Come on, we need to eat, both of us.” He shot the others a look before turning his head to Harry. “It’s a bit strange, isn’t it?”

“What?” Harry felt like he’d just woken up from a weird sleep.

"How it's all so… normal and yet it isn't. Nothing will ever be again." Ron looked in the direction of a large apple tree which George currently sat under, staring up into the sky. He hadn't talked to the others all day and distanced himself. Harry followed Ron's gaze, but instead of looking at George, he looked at Ron. His best friend had a stony expression, not a single emotion was shown as he watched his older brother be entirely in a world of his own. Harry knew this day must be extremely hard for George, and if it was one thing Harry knew, it was grief.

"He shattered all the mirrors, you know," Ron said in a low, sad voice, turning his gaze from George to look down at the ground. Harry caught himself staring at the pale skin in the nape of Ron's neck. He wished he could run his fingers along it, to touch every freckle marking his skin. He knew he shouldn't, not when Ron was opening up to him.

_Get your shit together, Potter._

“In the flat,” Ron continued. “I know… I was there, tidying up after…” His voice faded away as if he had just confessed some huge secret.

Harry’s stomach twitched with guilt.

"Anyway… Come on." Ron jerked his head towards the table. "Otherwise we'll miss out on all the good stuff." He smiled a little, and with a small tug on Harry's arm, Harry snapped from his trance and followed Ron to eat.

**__________**

**Ron**

“So… Quidditch,” Charlie said, brandishing his fork on which he had spiked a piece of chicken pie. “Are we all up for it after we’ve stuffed our faces?”

There was a choir of low hums in agreement around the table. Charlie grinned and turned to Ron. “You’ll be Keeper on my team, won’t you?”

Ron nodded. He had barely listened to a word anybody had said for the last thirty minutes. He felt as though he had a bag over his head.

"Charlie, Harry and Ron can be one team, Bill, George and I will be the other," Ginny said. She held hands with her boyfriend Stewart over the table. "You wouldn't mind, would you?" She turned to him, and he shook his head.

"Not at all, Hermione promised to tell me more about her position at the Ministry," Stewart said, pushing up his Percy-like glasses on his nose. "I'm looking forward to hearing all about it - Where do you work again?"

“Oh, I _will start_ working in the department for the regulation and control of magical creatures in two weeks,” Hermione said brightly, visibly happy to be telling a newcomer about it.

Ron groaned inwardly. He was happy that Hermione had found her calling in life - she'd always been a hard worker, and he knew how much she wanted to improve things for the magical beings in their world. Getting a foot in the magical creatures-department was a good start, but he had already heard everything about it though- a million fucking times. Ron exchanged a look with Harry across the table, both of them smiled knowingly at their friend's enthusiasm. Stewart listened eagerly while Percy, who sat beside Hermione, put in a few words too, here and there. 

Stewart and Ginny had been dating for four months. He was a Muggle from the exclusive parts of London and before Ginny, he had never set a foot in the Wizarding world. He was someone Ron previously would have thought Ginny would never date: studious, a wine snob and liked to travel. He was five years older and apparently hated sports, although he seemed fascinated enough when it came to Quidditch. Stewart reminded Ron a bit of Percy if he was completely honest, or maybe a male version of Hermione. They were certainly an odd couple, but Ginny looked at him with doe-eyes, so Ron supposed she was happy. Stewart was also incredibly handsome, with curly honey-blonde hair and blue eyes and a nice chin; even Ron had to admit that. Ron had also overheard Ginny telling Hermione that Stewart was apparently 'a good shag' too, information he wished he didn't have.

“Ron, you and Harry can get the brooms out of the shed, right?” Ginny asked, leaning over to pat Ron on the arm to alert his attention.

"Yeah, yeah," Ron muttered, forcing himself to concentrate, even though he felt utterly fucked up inside. He wasn't really in the mood for playing Quidditch, which wasn't like him at all. Ron lived and breathed Quidditch, growing up supporting the Cannons and playing a bit in the Gryffindor Quidditch team had fueled his love for it. His interest in the sport had seemed to vanish the more nightmares he got, and the more he realised that the weirdness he was experiencing wasn't going to go away.

_And then it was the thing with Harry._

“I’ll be Chaser,” Charlie informed from his side of the table. “I know, I know, but I’m sacrificing myself for you, Harry.” Charlie gave him a wink before turning to George. “And you, Georgie, Beater, yeah? You’re up for it, mate?”

George gave a small shrug, void of any emotion. He looked completely numb. “Maybe. I might go to bed.”

“Of course, dear.” Mrs Weasley patted his arm.

Ron wanted to say something, _anything_ but there still was a tightness in his throat, and he found that he couldn't add much to the situation.

_Nothing I say will make him feel better anyway, so…_

George and Ron shared a flat above the joke shop. George had set his mind on running it, even though Fred wasn't there anymore to work alongside him. His death had been hard on them all, but it was George who had suffered the most. Ron couldn't imagine how it must be- they had been identical twins, and naturally, George was the spitting image of Fred. On really bad days, Ron had caught George destroying the mirrors in the flat and used the sharp pieces to cut himself. Ron had found his older brother in a puddle of blood more times than he could count, rocking back and forth with red-rimmed eyes. Ron would clean up, restore the mirrors and heal the wounds until it happened next time. And the next.

Eventually, he had tossed out the mirrors.

_Thank fuck I decided to move into the flat when I split with Hermione. Who knows where he would’ve been otherwise. We can’t lose him too._

*******

A half-hour later, stuffed with food and almost unable to move, Ron and Harry made their way to the small shed where they kept their brooms. They walked in silence up the too-high grass no one bothered to tend to anymore. Despite the warm weather and the fact that it was the beginning of June, Ron shivered under his chequered shirt. He’d taken off his sweater earlier and was starting to regret that decision.

“We should be able to play for a bit before tea and cake,” he said, just to have something to say. “You alright, mate? Excited about the game?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered in a far-away voice. He seemed to be just as much in his own world as Ron was, which made him a little worried. Harry had been so quiet, _unusually_ quiet since they arrived at the Burrow yesterday. Ron tried not to think about last night when Harry had hugged him so tightly. He thought back to what Hermione had said. He should tell Harry the way things were, but how was he supposed to, really?

Harry's gaze was firmly fixed on the ground, and Ron wondered what he was thinking so hard about.

He pushed the door to the broom shed open and started handing Harry the brooms, who quietly took them into his arms. It was hard not to stare at the knuckles of Harry’s hand and the pale skin. Ron wondered what it would be like to kiss that hand, if the skin would be as soft as it looked. He wondered what it would feel like under his calloused fingers. He hated himself for thinking about it.

_Get your head out of your arse, for fuck’s sake._

*******

_“How much d’you reckon he’s worth? Couple of hundred galleons? Or less? More?”_

_“Doesn’t matter at this point, does it? We’ve captured him, we’ll find out soon enough.”_

_“I need to know, I need to eat.”_

_The Snatchers were talking about him over his head, discussing how much they could get for him. Ron was held at wand point while somebody, he couldn’t see who, held him in a tight grip from behind._

_"Let me go!" He yelled, but it was useless. It didn't matter how much he tried to wriggle, the grip only got tighter, and the tip of the other's wand dug into the skin of his throat. Ron didn't know how many of them there were around him; he just knew he was fucked. He should have been more careful; he shouldn't have run away._

_He was met with evil laughter at his shouting._

_"And why would we do that?" A hoarse, lust-filled voice whispered in his ear. "We captured you, and we'll get paid. Besides…" he continued, pressing his body against Ron's. "You're so pretty; you might as well provide us with a bit of fun…"_

_He struggled, fought and kicked, only to be met with more laughter, more touches and a shouted curse._

*******

Ron was completely soaked in sweat- the nightmare flashing before his eyes.

_It’s just a dream. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real._

_I’m not captured. Not now. I’m safe._

He didn’t even believe himself.

“Ron?”

He almost jumped at the sound of Harry's voice. Ron was sitting straight up in his bed, rummaging through the old rucksack he had brought with him to the Burrow. He had his vials there, that held the Dreamless Sleep potions. All he found now were empty bottles, and Ron's heart was racing with how stressed he was. He had been _so sure_ he had had enough with him. How the fuck was it possible that all he found now were empty bottles?! _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

_I can’t sleep without them. I can’t sleep without them. I can’t sleep without them._

“I can’t do it, Harry. I can’t.” Ron was barely aware of how he said it aloud. He had fallen asleep without the damn potion again, and he blamed himself for being so utterly fucking stupid.

They had ended the night with drinking a few beers. Ron’s head had felt like it was filled with cotton once the alcohol worked its magic in his body, rocking him into a false state of comfort. It had felt safe enough to go to sleep then, while he was a bit drunk but the nightmares had hit him hard like a Bludger in the chest. All he saw whenever he closed his eyes now were Fred’s open ones that couldn’t see anymore. He saw how he knelt beside him and… Hermione’s shrieks while she was being tortured at the Malfoy Manor and the evil hands grabbing at him while he was on the run, leaving Hermione and Harry in the Forest of Dean.

Ron’s breath hitched; he was working himself up into a state of pure panic.

“Do what?” Harry’s voice.

“I can’t fucking sleep, Harry! The potions… the potions… I’ve got none left. I thought I did, I thought I had some left to last me through this stay, but I don’t… I don’t.” Ron’s voice was low and fretful, laced with the stress he was feeling.

He babbled too much, he knew he did. It seemed as though somebody had pulled a plug out of him or something, the words just kept pouring out with no stopping them. He was glad he couldn't see how he looked, with blue eyes wide and frightened, or how he kept rocking back and forth with his heart hammering wildly inside his chest. Harry sprung to life instantly, suddenly close and comforting. He placed his hands on Ron's arms, stroking soothingly while whispering soothing words.

“What potions, Ron?”

Harry’s eyes were so worried, Ron didn’t dare to meet his gaze. Instead, he focused on a spot behind Harry’s shoulder.

There was no use lying to him though, now that half the truth was already out anyway.

“Dreamless Sleep,” Ron whispered hoarsely, “I’ve been taking them to be able to get through the nights, that’s how I’ve managed to get any sleep at all. The nightmares are too much, Harry, I can’t take it anymore… I can’t take it anymore.”

“How long have you been using them?” Harry wondered. His tone was cautious, yet with a suspicious undertone.

“A couple months…”

_Since the war ended._

“Fuck, Ron. Every night?” Harry breathed.

Ron nodded quietly. “Yeah… I can’t fall asleep without them anymore. I _need_ them. We're going to Fred's grave tomorrow, and I won't be able to… Fuck, Harry, everything's just shit!" Ron's face fell into his hands. He was mortified when his body started shaking violently, and he began to cry. Ron rarely cried, and he _certainly_ didn’t cry in front of others.

Harry didn't say anything; he just pulled Ron close to him and held him like he was a small child. Ron wasn't in a state to make any objection, and he wasn't thinking about the fact that this might have been a strange move on Harry's part. He just enjoyed being close, feeling Harry's breath in his hair.

_Harry, I love you. I fucking love you. Thank Godric for you._

Harry stroked his back with a free hand, the other curling around Ron’s shoulders. Ron leant his head against Harry’s shoulder, crying so much he almost choked on the air.He knew he was red-faced, ugly and swollen from it, and it was embarrassing how the tears streaming down his face soaked Harry’s pyjama shirt.

“It’s okay, Ron, I’m here,” Harry muttered into his hair. “I’m here and everything will be all right…”

“It won’t,” Ron sniffled.

“It will.”

“No!” Ron’s head shot up from Harry’s shoulder. He looked the other man in the eye, his own wide and worried. “It’s not just that… It’s everything. Dreamless sleep took everything away. I could just… drift off and not care. I _needed_ that. I still need that.”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean with everything? Is something wrong? I mean — Anything else than just nightmares and bad thoughts?”

“I-I’m…” Ron squeezed his eyes shut and tore away from Harry’s grasp. He threw his hands up in despair. “Fuck’s sake. I don’t know how to tell you this, not without you hating me. I _know_ you’ll hate me.”

“You can tell me anything, Ron,” Harry whispered into the darkness of Ron’s bedroom. “I won’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

“You will after this,” Ron said in a small voice.

“No,” Harry said with a firm shake of his head. “Never.”

He looked so determined Ron’s heart ached. He laced his fingers together in front of him tightly, needing some type of physical tether to ground him.

“I’m…” Ron tried the words on his tongue.

_Come on. Say it._

“I’m… gay…” he finally said after a long, horrible pause. His face heated more than he ever thought was possible, and Ron was very, very glad for the dark so Harry couldn’t see how much he blushed. He was also glad he couldn’t see the reaction in Harry’s face.

He wanted to hide or die or possibly both.

Harry was quiet for a long time, which made Ron very worried and insecure. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, shit and fuck. He should never have said that.

He should never have said _anything._

“Why would I hate you for that?” Harry whispered when Ron just about thought that he couldn’t take it anymore.

_Because I fucking love you, you prat._

“Dunno…” Ron mumbled, dizzy and sweaty from his confession. His tongue was too thick, and he was so bloody tired. “I don’t know, Harry… I’m just — ”

_Scared._

“When did you realise?” Harry asked quietly after a few more moments of silence.

_When I knew I fancied you._

“After the war… maybe. Or in school.” Ron shrugged, even though Harry couldn’t see it. “But I… Ithought it was best not to act on it. It’s weird. I thought people were gonna hate me if I told. Thought _you_ were gonna hate me. Hermione seemed okay, she was the one figuring it all out…”

"Like I said, I could never hate you." Harry's voice was full of determination, almost taking Ron aback. "In fact, I…" It was Harry's voice wavering now. Ron heard him take a deep breath and how it shuddered a bit when he exhaled. "I'm bisexual, I think. I mean, I like girls. But I — I think I like boys too."

Ron’s pulse quickened at the words. Harry took another deep breath and Ron could hear the sound of him rubbing at his own hands. “And I know this because… Because I can’t stop looking at you. Like really _looking_ at you." Ron didn't need light to know that Harry was blushing. His voice was extremely low, and Ron wasn't sure if he had heard right. His lips flapped uselessly, and Ron found he couldn't speak at all.

Harry shifted on Ron’s bed. “I know… You don’t feel the same way. Just because you’re gay, doesn’t mean you’re… Never mind. I’m really proud of you, Ron. It must have taken a lot of guts to say that.”

He made to move from the bed when Ron's brain finally caught up with him. He took hold of Harry's wrist and pulled him down to him, as close as when they hugged before. Ron's move was rather violent, which led both young men to topple over, and Harry landed ungracefully part beside Ron, part on top of him.

"Can't stop looking at you either you sod," Ron murmured, and without knowing what he was thinking since he had stopped thinking properly a long time ago, he raised his hand and caressed Harry's cheek.

Ron wasn’t sure when it happened, not even sure _how_ it happened, but their lips found each other like magnets or a bee to a flower. It was slow, tentative and a little wet, because Ron's cheeks were still tear-streaked and his eyes slipped shut when Harry kissed them away. It was the most intimate thing Ron had experienced ever in his life, and he marvelled over his best friend's actions. Harry's tongue sought entrance into Ron's mouth, and when Ron parted his lips to allow him, their kissing deepened. Ron wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling him closer than he thought was ever possible before. Harry's fingertips sank into Ron's hair, and he made tiny noises in the back of his throat that made Ron's heart beat faster and harder, and he found himself wanting more sounds. The only way to get them was to keep on kissing, and when Ron did, it led him to press his hips forward, wanting more contact with the black-haired wizard beside him. Even though he should have known, it still startled him a bit to find his cock had stiffened in his pants and he pulled slightly away, embarrassed.

Ron looked moodily in another direction, but Harry's gentle fingertips stroking along his jaw guided him back and soon they kissed again. He felt Harry press his own hips forward too, letting Ron know he was just as hard. Ron wanted to roll his hips again, and he did, repeating the action over and over to meet with Harry's own thrusts. Ron couldn't stop, and Harry didn't seem to be able to either. He put his hands on Harry's arse, squeezing shamelessly as Harry fully climbed on top of him, draping his body deliciously over his.

_“Roooooon…”_ Harry’s voice was a low, dragged out moan. He planted wet kisses down the side of Ron’s neck, taking the skin gently between his teeth. “Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron…” Harry incoherently mumbled his name over and over again.

"Shh…" Ron was panting; his voice felt weird, all deep and unnatural, and it shuddered when he spoke. "I'm h-here, Harry. I'm not g-going a-anywhere…"

He moved one hand from Harry's arse to stroke the man over his back, silently seeking permission to go beneath his shirt by tugging somewhat insecurely on the hem. Harry kissed him again, and the exciting sounds he made, tiny mewls and whimpers and moans made Ron feel brave and safe. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was moaning too, but he couldn't hear it as clear as he heard Harry's. They kept a tight hold on each other while they entered a fast-paced rhythm as they continued to thrust.

“Harry…” Ron buried his sweaty face in the crook of Harry’s neck, knowing that if they didn’t stop, he wouldn’t be able to prevent what was going to happen. Tightness built up in his abdomen, thighs and bollocks. He squeezed Harry hard to try to slow his racing mind.

“I’m close…” Harry muttered in his ear. “Close to… to…”

Ron didn't need Harry to finish the sentence; they both knew what it was. Their speed increased, and with a last jerk of his hips, it was all over. He kept moving slowly until Harry's body went rigid before relaxing, bonelessly tired, over him.

They lay in each other’s arms in silence for Ron didn’t know how long. He felt Harry breathe against the side of his neck; he had flopped down from lying over Ron to lay beside him, though with their legs still tangled together. They kept sharing slow, intimate kisses and cuddles, neither caring about the wet stains in their boxers. It was not enough motivation to move from their current position of being wrapped around each other.

Eventually, Ron’s eyelids grew heavy, and he fell asleep in Harry’s arms, finally feeling at peace.

**_______**

**Epilogue**

**Ron**

The giant oak tree behind the tombstone cast a shadow over the grave. Bright summer flowers in red and yellow grew in front of the stone, where Fred's name, his birth date and date of death were engraved in gold. Ron watched as George squatted in front of it, tracing his fingertips over the hard surface. Charlie and Bill stood on either side, along with their parents, Percy, Ginny, Fleur and Stewart. Ron heard their mother sob into a large handkerchief, and he watched his dad's arms curl around her shoulders.

Ron stood a bit further away from the others, leaning against another tree. They had buried Fred in a beautiful remembrance garden, in a hidden place in the forest close to their home. The side of his head pressed against the bark of the tree trunk, his arms crossed over his chest.

"How are you holding up?" Harry murmured behind him. Ron felt the other man's breaths against his skin, making him almost shiver. A faint wind blew across his face, but the air was warm, and the sun was shining. Another beautiful summer's day laid ahead of them.

“It’s okay,” Ron murmured back without turning his head. He kept his gaze firmly in front of him. “Harder on George.”

“On all of you,” Harry corrected gently. “You too, Ron. You don’t have to put everyone else’s feelings over your own, you know. You’re allowed to be sad, he was your brother too.”

“Wasn’t my twin.”

Harry sighed behind him. “No… But he was still your _brother._ You always take care of people, always have. You always took care of me when we were kids. I’d like to take care of you, now… to help you. I want you to stop taking the potions, Ron.”

Ron’s breath almost caught in his throat when Harry leant his head against his back. He felt Harry’s dark hair tickle the nape of his neck.

“I dunno if I can…” Ron mumbled weakly. “I’ve been on them for so long, Harry, and the nightmares…”

“I know,” he heard Harry say against him. “But at least let me try to help you. I’m here. I won’t go anywhere.”

“You’ve always been here,” Ron smiled a little, now watching a large butterfly with blue wings land on the tombstone. Harry was leaning into him openly, all his family had to do was turn their heads to see. Nobody did, but for the first time in his life, Ron realised that he absolutely didn’t care if they would. Harry’s hands trailed over his arms, and Ron grabbed hold of one of them, lacing their fingers together. He stroked his thumb over the back of Harry’s hand.

“You know what I mean. I — I love you. I’ve _always_ loved you. And I’m here. In any way you want. For as long as you want.” Harry continued in a low, slightly wavering voice before pressing a kiss to the side of Ron’s neck.

Ron pulled out of Harry’s hold and turned so he could take him in his arms too. Still not caring that his family could see, he squeezed Harry close to him. He felt Harry’s arms wrap around his lower back as his own looped around Harry’s shoulders.

“I love you, too,” Ron whispered straight into the ear canal of his best friend. He shut his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of being held and loved.

Neither Ron nor Harry noticed Hermione had spotted them and smiled a little to herself. They were holding each other so intimately, and it indicated that at least now Ron finally must have told Harry something Ron didn't know she had suspected for a while. It had been unmistakable in the way Ron's eyes had always lingered on Harry whenever he exited a room. She watched Ron's relaxed expression, his closed eyes and her heart filled with joy for her two best friends.

The blue-winged butterfly landed on her shoulder, and for a minute, Hermione Granger could have sworn she heard Fred's voice, his laugh, like a faint whisper in the wind.

_Fin_


End file.
